


The Anti-Propaganda bill

by Eccentric_Red



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Hermione just needs a break, Politics, Post-War, Ron's just trying to lighten the mood, Short One Shot, harry just wants to go home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 21:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14881173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eccentric_Red/pseuds/Eccentric_Red
Summary: How do you repair a society that has been plagued with war, prejudice, and dark creatures? With a cup of tea and a plate of digestive biscuits.





	The Anti-Propaganda bill

 

Three friends sat around an old, wooden table in a gloomy-looking kitchen. On the table was a few dusty folders, a long roll of yellow-tinted parchment–with blots of ink staining it–three mugs of tea and a large plate of chocolate-coated digestives.

A freckled boy with ginger hair by the name of Ronald Weasley Was finishing off his third biscuit as he stared at the conundrum before him. “This isn’t gonna work, Mione.”

The second young man at the table groaned lowly, slumping down in his chair. He was called Harry Potter and had a lightning scar on his forehead–a parting gift from a  maniac who’d tried to kill him multiple times.

Hermione Granger gritted her teeth; she was a plain-faced, bushy-haired woman fast approaching 25. “Ronald, propaganda is dangerous and Kingsley wants it gone,” she snapped, taking a large gulp of her tea. “The Anti-Propaganda Bill  _ is  _ going to pass.”

“…But remember how long it took to pass the last bill?” Ron pressed on.

She cringed, draining the last drop of her drink , before flicking her wand to boil the kettle again. “Oh God no.”

Harry buried his face in his hands. “ _ Please  _ don’t remind me. Do you know how much sleep I lost that month?”

Hermione scoffed. “Well, at least you  _ had _ slept. Remember when I fainted in the courtroom?”

“I did tell you to take a break,” Ron said. “You nearly died when you tried to get SPEW going for the third time.”

“It’s S.P…oh, stuff it, I don’t even care about the name anymore.” She let out an exasperated huff and folded her arms. “Anyway, we’re getting off topic. I didn’t gather you all for nothing.”

He frowned. “I thought you said you were going to order us a Muggle food-order-thingy…”

“A takeaway,” Harry corrected.

Ron snapped his fingers. “That’s it!”

“We’ll do that later!” Hermione ran a hand through her hair. “I’ll need both your public support if I’m going to get this passed. I’ve already talked with Susan and Penelope. They’ve managed to gather a lot of the journalists on board–including the editor of the Daily Prophet–but it’s still split 50/50.” She pursed her lips. “Rita Skeeter is unsurprisingly on the opposition.”

Harry’s eyes flickered to the pile of envelopes in the bin. "How vocal is she being?”

Hermione scowled but nevertheless pointed her wand at the thrown away letters. A pink letter zoomed out of the rubbish and exploded, a loud, shrieking voice booming out.

Ron clapped his hands over his ears. Harry was nearly blown off his seat.

“-- A STUCK UP, SELF-RIGHTEOUS, BUCK-TOOTHED, FRIZ-HEADED ANARCHISTIC BITCH!!!”

She pointed her wand at the envelope a second time; the letter burst into flames.

“Quite vocal,” she said, pouring herself a second cup of tea.

“Bloody hell!” Ron stared at her wide-eyed, picking up a fourth digestive. “Give a guy a little warning next time, will you?”

Hermione shrugged. “Funnily enough, they’re not as vile as the ones I received in fourth year…I suppose Harry’s love life sparked more passion among the populace.” She smiled at him teasingly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Okay, let’s get back to work. The Anti-Propaganda bill has a lot of support, but it could still not get passed. There’s still a lot of corruption in the Ministry."

“Bunch of cockroaches,” Ron mumbled, devouring his fifth biscuit.

Hermione sighed, downing the rest of her tea. “I know that. But this time is different. I’ve sussed out most of the snakes, and Kingsley has given me his full support on this one. This bill _will_ get passed." Her brows furrowed, her lips set in a thin line. 

Harry exchanged a look with Ron."Yeah, but it took us four years to finally make love potions illegal,” the messy-haired man argued.

She sighed deeply, slumping in her chair. “I know that. This time will be different, I’ve researched every loophole there is and I’ve got a strong amount of support.” She poured herself a third cup of tea. “If this bill doesn’t pass, I’ll play Quidditch against you two.”

* * *

 

_ Three Days later… _

The Daily Prophet Editor Barnabas Cuffe was old and his hands were thick like sausages; they nearly crushed Harry’s hand.

“Glad you could make it!” Cuffe greeted. “Take a seat. Would you like a coffee?”

"No thanks."Harry forced a smile. If someone had told him eight years ago he would be making nice with the editor of the Daily Prophet, he would have told you to sod off, then probably sat gloomily in a corner and wonder at what point in his life did he sell-out.

The only reason he was there was that Hermione wanted him to double check the article before the PR got a hold of it before distribution. He assumed it was because he had enough influence to sway the editor for any necessary changes. It was a bit of a hassle since it kept him at the Ministry after he clocked out from work, but since he was helping Hermione out it didn’t bother him that much – considering she was working herself to the bone to get this bill passed.

“Thanks,” the younger man said.

The editor sat down behind his desk. “The article covering the Anti-Propaganda Bill will be printed tomorrow morning.”

Harry’s eyes grew. “Tomorrow? But public relations hasn’t had a look at it yet!”

Cuffe frowned. “I received an owl from Miss Granger yesterday morning telling me to go ahead and print it.”

Harry gaped at the man like he was confunded. “Why would she say that? It makes no sense!” He stood to his feet. “Why would she have it printed without giving it a read over? The whole reason I’m here is to make sure it’s written right!”

Cuffe looked quite offended. “I assumed you were here to check the article had gone through to printing,” he said gruffly. “I was simply following Miss Granger’s request. I have the letter here if you need further proof.” The editor pulled out a folded piece of paper from his desk drawer.

Harry snatched it up and quickly scanned it. The letter had been typed up by a typewriter with Hermione’s signature at the bottom; only it wasn’t her signature.

_ Forgery. _

“Brilliant,” Harry said sarcastically, crumpling the letter up. Cuffe looked at him in indignation. “Just  _ brilliant _ . Let me see the article.”

May as well see how bad the damage was.

The editor fumbled a bit, looking very put out, pulling open another drawer. Cuffe pulled out a long piece of parchment. “This is the final draft. We had our best writers on it.”

This didn’t reassure Harry. “Wonderful,” he replied dryly, beginning to read the article.

Within a minute of reading, he wanted to repeatedly bash his head against the wooden desk. When he finished reading the entire thing, he then wanted to dig a grave and bury himself alive.

 

“This is the article about to go in print tomorrow?” he asked.

Cuffe nodded. ”Yes. Mr Potter, I think you’ll find we’ve done our best to portray the bill in a very positive light.”

“Oh, I can see that.” Harry buried his face in his right hand. “You’ve done such a fantastic job that the article has become propaganda.” He let out a groan, returning his attention to the disgruntled editor. “You can’t use propaganda to support an anti-propaganda bill!”

Cuffe stood up from his chair, looking positively livid. “We have done no such thing!”

“This entire article is biased and degrades the opposition.” Harry clenched his hands into fists. “What was the point of mentioning Mr Penrose’s gambling addiction? It has no relation to context!”

The editor had the decency to look a little sheepish. “The readers like a sensational story.”

“It makes us look like hypocrites!” Harry took a second to take a deep breath and calm down. “Stop the presses.”

Cuffe scoffed. “It’s already in printing! We’d have to physically stop the machine –"

Harry buried his face in his hands. 

 

Please let this be a nightmare!  

 

When he looked back up Cuffe was staring at him helplessly. 

 

Harry let out a low sigh. "Oh…bugger.”

* * *

 

_ Three days later… _

The three old friends were seated in silence around the old, wooden table again, a plate of digestive biscuits and three cups of tea resting on top. The files were scattered haphazardly on the table, with scrunched up paper on top.

A battered clock hung above the kitchen sink, the ticking noise reverberating around the room.

Ron finished munching on his sixth biscuit. Hermione’s face was resting on the table, her hair frizzier than usual.

Harry stared at his pale, pink mug, eyeing up the illustration of a dancing cow that was printed on the ceramic. Then his eyes flicked between both of his friends. “Anyone want more tea?”

No one spoke.

“…Okay.” Harry got off the chair, bringing his empty cup to the countertop.

There was another pause. 

 

“So…” Ron piped up, noisily swallowing his food. Hermione slowly looked up, bags under her eyes. “The article thing is…uh…kind of ironic, isn’t it?” He attempted to smile and lighten the mood. “I didn’t expect the public backlash to be that bad. I’m surprised they even noticed it was biased…”

She gazed at him blankly, her eyes narrowing. Hermione rolled up one of the files and whacked him around the head repeatedly. “Rub it in why don’t you!” She looked like she was one step away from a nervous breakdown.

Ron raised his hands to protect himself. “Well, it’s pretty ironic when you think about it.” He looked towards Harry for support – the other young man just shrugged helplessly. “And come on, the bill will get passed…eventually. Now just isn’t a good time. We’ll just have to be smarter next time,” the ginger man said firmly.

Hermione faltered, gradually lowering the file back down onto the table. “True, these things do take time.” She looked at her on/off boyfriend apologetically. “Sorry.”

Ron brushed it off. “Just relax, Mione, things aren’t as bad as you think.”

Harry faintly smiled, before he looked in the cupboard for more tea bags, only to find the box empty. His smile dropped as he glanced over his shoulder. “We’re out of tea.”

Hermione’s magic fizzed.

The table was knocked over with a loud bang, biscuits and half-finished, cold tea smashing onto the floor.


End file.
